About pentup47

Biography

I'm a shy, insular sort of person, easily affected emotionally. I love a good blub at the movies - if the ending warrants it. Some music also does it for me ('Dido's Lament' at anyone's funeral). I'm a committed pacifist and environmentalist and worry constantly about global warming (and think that the nay-sayers are nuts). I grew tired of urban living over 20 years ago, seeking refuge in this quaint rural backwater called Herefordshire. Pursuits and pastimes: walking, cooking, photography, foreign travel. Joining Lush has been the best thing I've done in years. I've had some wild times, both in the Lush Rooms and via private chats. My hero is Bob Dylan (who I've seen live in concert 10 times) and my favourite deceased hero is the English comedian Peter Cook. I quit full-time journalism some years ago, but still love writing. I have had two novels published and am working hard on a third, which will be set in my beloved Cuba. J.B. Morton (aka 'Beachcomber') was the funniest writer who ever lived, and the court transcripts of the trials of The Red-Beared Dwarfs are the best of his work. Favourite film stars? Kim Novak (natch!) and the incomparably-beautiful French actress Bulle Ogier. If I had the nerve to go to a fancy dress party dragged up, I would most certainly go as Bulle Ogier, wearing a copy of the Karl Lagerfeld costume she makes her entrance in as the cruel dominatrix in the BDSM classic 'La Maitresse'. I've now chalked up nearly 40 Lush stories. My favourite? Probably 'Night Sleeper to Madrid', because the woman ticket inspector turns out to be extremely naughty and I've always adored being led astray by wanton women.

Always! It's a common decency, surely? Though I have noticed that, of late, some folk can be pretty taciturn about themselves (shyness, secrecy or maybe paranoia about trans-global cyber-observation?).

I'm a Trump-hating Brit and proud of it. Of all this moron's myriad 'mis-speaks', the one which has caused the most hilarity in this household is the dimwit's claim that the US Embassy in London was sold too cheply ("Bad Deal!" was the great man's actual words) by Baracka Obama, when in fact the deal was authorised by George W Bush. So easy to get muddled over one's predecessors, isn't it? One was white and thick as two short planks; the other was black and extremely smart.

As something of a cell-phone-illiterate (it took me a while to understand the significance of 'brb' when it is signalled in a Chat Room, although I'd worked out 'btw' some time ago). please can The Great Gav list a handful of other useful chat room mnemonics (such as 'I desperately need to have a pee' or 'if I don't take the dog for its walk they'll be an accident' or 'Christ, I've just seen my landlord coming up the front garden path')?

@BUZ: thanks for that heads up (re the world ending on Saturday). I'd say that calling Kim Jong Haircut 'Rocket Man', from the podium of the United Nations, and then threatening to wipe out the whole of North Korea, was a pretty shrewd way of guanteeing that the Planet X portent comes to pass.

Saturday, you say? That means I've just got time to demolish a litre bottle of French brandy. Cheers everybody!

70+ here. Fit and (so far) no major surgery. Cum nice loads, though my 'recovery time' is now at least four hours, which can be a tad frustrating if you're having a sexy session with another guy. I've never done poppers or tried Viagra. Any advice?

The lights were on in the motel's little timber-clad cabin when Dave and Nick pulled up by the front porch. "She's obviously checked in already," Dave observed getting out of the driver's seat. Nick dutifully followed with their two cases.As they stepped up onto the stoop the cabin's inner door swung open. "Hi guys, come on in!" Through the fly screen, the men could make out the profile of...

Local townspeople were in awe of our new civic library - or the Interactive Literary & Learning Hub as we had been told to refer to it. It replaced a 100 year-old red sandstone monolith, built in the days when philanthropists erected grandiose monuments to themselves and their wealth. Ours was to be converted into a multi-cultural food bank and refuge for battered wives. The brash new...

In no time at all I'd settled into my new job at Sir Algernon Hardcastle's mansion, as his resident Naked Cleaner. The other members of the staff at The Grange were his haughty butler Corbyn; Roland, the taciturn chauffeur; and his redoubtable housekeeper Condoleezza. The flame-haired Romanian and I were at daggers drawn from our very first meeting, but it was only after hearing some ...

The classified advert in our local newsletter was slightly ambiguous. Elderly bachelor seeks services of a naked cleaner. Details plus photo to Box 3679. It was pretty obvious that this horny old gent was looking for someone like a gorgeous young Latino who he could feast his lascivious eyes on, while she polished the mahogany sideboard. Culminating, no doubt, with a session in the...

The distinctive growl of a powerful V-twin motorbike alerted Janet Martin to the arrival of one of her husband's biking friends. She dried her hands on her apron and headed for the front door. Clasping a gleaming white crash helmet under her arm was a slim blonde-haired young woman, wearing black leathers and boots. "Is Phil in?" she enquired. "He's just popped into town. He shouldn't be...

I sat in the dark shadow of the Victorian mansion, with the engine idling. At 6.00pm sharp they appeared in the doorway. He, portly - leaning heavily on his stick for support; she, wraith-slim, clad in a sleeveless silver evening gown that went down to touch a pair of silver satin stilettos. Her slender, porcelain-white arms were clad with elbow-length silver snakeskin gloves and her...

"Well, you seem to have catered for the heat wave!" The petite supermarket checkout girl nimbly slid my eight items across her scanner. A litre bottle of vodka, two giant tonics, three lemons, a packet of crisps and a bottle of Prosecco. "You forgot the sun oil." "I'm going for an all-over tan this summer." "Nice." She gave a playful grin as I handed her my credit card. "Wifey away, by...

"Fucking aphids!" Arms folded and still wearing her pruning gauntlets, my wife Alice stepped into our conservatory from the garden. She was in frayed denim shorts, a Pink Floyd T-shirt and flip-flops. Glancing down at the magazine I was reading she snorted: "And since when have you been interested in women's magazines?" I carried on reading. I didn't feel it was worth responding to this...

I got an unexpected journalistic assignment to the US: a two-day trip to New York. My heart missed a beat when I took the magazine's call, realising that I would be able to meet my cyber-lover Gary for the first time. I was slightly flustered as I put down the phone. Should I message him to tell him I was coming? Or think about the girlie items I needed to pack? There was barely...

Shafts of early-morning sunshine were coming through my bedroom window as the bedside phone rang. Through one bleary eye, I saw it was 6.30. I picked up. "So how was I?" I instantly recognised the sultry voice of my next door neighbour, Barbara. "Er good morning. Little early isn't it?" "I've been awake since five, but I didn't like to ring before. How was I last night?" Memories of our...